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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22744573">1955</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/necronism/pseuds/necronism'>necronism</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Horror, Vampires</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 09:02:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,318</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22744573</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/necronism/pseuds/necronism</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1955. A body has been found in a small Oregon town, and its sheriff and his deputy are tasked with the mystery surrounding the woman's apparent murder. The mystery slowly spirals out into a dark secret that has recently arrived in the town, not posing a threat until just now.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1955</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is an archived and unfinished work being posted in its entirety despite being several chapters. What is being published was written in one night and was not continued. I lost my steam as well as my train of thought for the actual characters and the writing style. Regardless, I hope you enjoy. Feedback would be very welcome as I consider this one of the best things I've personally tried writing.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>1.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>████, OREGON.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>AUGUST 15th,1955.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The town had become cursed overnight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It started with an animal attack, something that rarely happened out of hunting seasons. Sometimes even the bucks got brave and tried to impale a hunter but it wasn't ever anything a hunter couldn't fix himself. The wolves were another story: a small but brutal pack that had sneaked into one once in 1948 and dragged a Lily Evans right out of her bed, or so that's what her father had told the police. When it came to actually locating this infamous pack, no tracks were ever found. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Billy Evans, the older brother of the late Lily Evans, stood shaking in his boots by the curse of the old road out of town. A flare had been dropped to warn oncoming traffic, of which there never was any on Route 11 out of Mayfield. Its fizzling and popping made him jump as he stared down into the ditched, holding his sheriff hat over his chest, one hand clutching his radio that stretched from the car in one hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman’s body lay in the underbrush about ten feet from Billy Evan’s boots, five feet down in a sharp incline. It looked as if her throat had been torn open, jaw slack and barely hanging on tendons. Her limbs were tossed around her in a shameless dance, her dress shredded along her thighs. Billy didn't have dinner so he had nothing to throw up, only felt his chest and throat heave from time to time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A voice crackled on the radio and he pressed his thumb down to silence it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I found her, sir. The Fawst girl.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It would be the first of many bodies found.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Obediah DePriest, forty-six years old and entering his seventeenth year working with the Mayfield County Police Department, sat with his boots up on the table. Every morning he tested himself, pushing himself further and further back into his chair, coffee balanced on his chest and held only by a few apathetic fingers, to see if one day he'd actually take the fall. Or be frightened by someone rushing in to catch him off guard. Nothing ever surprised him anymore, that was the thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Billy Evans rushing in, holding his hat down with on hand only got him to drop his boots, chair rocking forward and landing with a “whud”. Obediah now sat with his arms neatly crossed on the desk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“DePriest! We found her!” Billy stopped to catch his breath, cheeks pale. With the front door to the station left open, the moonlight poured in across the floor. He had left his red light on, and it spun slowly behind him, causing Obediah to squint.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I heard on the radio. You tell anyone else?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No sir,” Billy wheezed, taking his hat off as the older man rose to his feet, grabbing his own hat off the back of his chair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, let's go get her and see what we can do. Coroner ain't gonna be open for a few more hours, so we might as well get a tarp on her. She in one piece?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Billy nodded, heaving at the thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good. So we know it ain't your daddy’s wolves.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ain't” was something Obediah said a lot, the sheer laziness of learning to talk correctly came with his Georgian farmer genes. Everything about him seemed out of sync with the rest of the city, even how he wore his hat a little too forward for a sheriff. As for the wolves, he was too lazy to take the hint that Billy didn't find it anymore. He wasn't getting his sister back neither, Obediah had told him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You could be the best damn cop in the county and it won't bring your sister back</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ride back to the route markers was silent. Billy gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles went white and his fingers went numb. Obediah say slouched in the car, hat tipped forward the way it always did. He tried to find something on the radio, even chatter, but the truth was that they were alone out here. After 9PM, Mayfield County shut off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The only words Billy had used to describe Lauren’s body was “messy” and much to Obediah’s surprise, the boy wasn't wrong. He'd say the same and not much else through gritted teeth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn shame,” Billy whimpered. “Pretty girl.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not no more.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded to Billy, who was happy to stay away from the scene. He scrambled to the back of the cruiser to take a black tarp out, holding it out. The boy didn't budge. It took Obediah a long minute to realize he wasn't coming back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Christ's sake,” he grumbled, snatching it from Billy’s hand and stumbling down the embankment. With a bit of a slip, he landed a few feet from Lauren's body and immediately rolled the tarp out over. A few rocks weighed the corners and edges down to keep out curious scavengers. There wasn't anything he could do about the ants. Never was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do we tell her fiancé?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Billy’s moon-pale face poked over the edge of the drop, and Obediah turned to scowl up at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We don't say a damn thing to anyone until he gets told. I'll go in the morning and you can stay put with the body.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“DePr--” Billy cut himself short, catching Obediah’s gray eyes glinting under the rim of his hood. They flickered red every time the police lights washed over his face. Billy drew back and disappeared from sight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn't do a kid good to become an officer if all he ever saw in those bodies was his own sister being dredged up from the lake, Obediah thought as he crawled back up the muddy wall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Billy helped, apologizing the entire time, until Obediah shook him off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go see if you can get Anderson up early,” he grumbled, brushing mud from his sleeves. “I'll figure out a way to tell Jake… you can take her parents. The most we can do is get them down to identify her body, but then we gotta come back out here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He paused, staring up at the moon breaking through the clouds. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pray it don't rain.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Billy had done his best to keep the body dry before Jamie Anderson arrived with his car. They shouted over the downpour to one another, trying to get Lauren wrapped up properly and up the now slick and collapsing mud wall to the car. In the end, they had to toss her up and over, listening to her rigid body hit the road and roll out of the tarp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, shit,” Anderson said, clawing back onto the road.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Billy threw up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>2.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boyd High was like any other school, divided by its own cliques and hobbies, usually crawling with teens always looking to get in a cop’s way. That's why Obediah hated it here. And that's why he was suddenly thankful for the rain. No one skipped class during a storm, lest they mess up their perfect hair or clothes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nudged the cruiser’s door shut with his hip. One hand kept the rim of his hat straight and it would have to do since he forgot an umbrella. The rain pattered loudly against the fabric, against all of him as he crossed the parking lot of the school and under an awning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jake Devon taught Introduction Math to freshman and Algebra to the rest of the grades in Building 4 across the commons. It was another light jog in the rain, catching the attention of some students that volunteered their time out of class. Cops were always hanging around the school, but they never had business inside them. Not usually.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Obediah’s boots squeaked along the linoleum floor, and he skidded slightly as he stopped in front of the door to Jake’s room. The glass window of the door let him peer in. Shit, he had a class and everything. He was hoping to catch him during a free period.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes unfocused and he saw his own reflection. Pitiful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Obediah DePriest was handsome… for an older Southern man. Despite not being sharp and clean-cut like the rest of the town, he had a natural charm that accompanied his ever present, stubbled scowl. He never learned how to stand up straight and his shaking hand always gripped too tight. His tie was always crooked and sometimes he was too blunt with shop owners. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, you should have had a safe. Well, you should have been paying better attention. Well, that's just how it is in the city.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other folk, they ranged from sweet little sheep farmers to soda shop owners. Overalls and bow ties, that's all he ever saw. Even the teachers, even the women. Puffy dresses and elegance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jake Devon stood sharp and attentive while Obediah tried not to put his hands in his pockets to avoid having to knock on his door. The man had a smile that showed he was passionate about his work, that he was willing to put up with kids hating the subject he taught.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man was completely oblivious to the horrors waiting back at the station.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His knuckles hit the pane sharply, and Jake turned his face from the blackboard where he was writing out a problem. His smile slowly faded, eyes widening. He turned to the class and shut the book in his hand as Obediah let himself in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>During previous visits, Jake was a bubbly, cheerful man, always happy to answer questions about students and always smiling. Obediah found him obnoxiously sweet, and he told Billy he was starting to get a toothache. The only time his smile had gone away like that was when he told Billy Evans that he wasn't so sure Lauren had really gone up to Washington to visit her sister.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Seeing the sheriff in his classroom, taking off his hat, all of Jake’s worst nightmares were confirmed. He forced a smile, addressing Obediah as “officer” - another thing Obediah hated, and told the class he'd be right back. Obediah was then led back out into the hallway. Well, more like shoved.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another thing Obediah now hated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can't do this to me in front of my class,” Jake hissed, tears already rolling down his cheeks. “You can't come in and--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I gotta ask you to come down to the station,” Obediah interrupted, holding up his hands so anyone watching could see that Jake was the one provoking him. “It ain't pretty.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was the “blunt” approach others had warned him about, and that Obediah had immediately regretted. Jake’s face twisted, no longer sharp, sweet, or obnoxious. His initial sob was silence, before he hid his face against Obediah’s coat and howled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sound was loud enough to jostle his students, who looked toward the door and among one another. Obediah rolled his eyes, keeping his hands up and away, not wanting to comfort the grieving man. There was nothing he could say or do, so why bother?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We gotta do the usual, Jake. So you gotta answer some questions as well. Where you've been, when you last saw her…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I already did all that!” he wailed. “I did all that and she's still gone!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“W-well, it could be a mistake. It could be a drifter. We don't know yet, Evans got a tip and found the woman this morning. She was in a ditch with her thr--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Jake’s resumed sobbing shut him up. He wouldn't quiet down either, not during the rainy, 15-minute car ride to the station, with Obediah wishing proper etiquette including sticking his head out the window into the rain so he didn't have to hear this guy’s sniveling. At least the guy wasn't giving him a toothache.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>3.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lauren’s body did not arrive gracefully. The rain and mud only made the stairs down to the morgue dangerous, Anderson and Billy both slipping at least once and rustling the body in the tarp. At one point, it moved enough to the point where Billy dropped her, screaming that he saw her eye blink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The kid wasn't made for tragedy, even if his career was born from it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We should wait for Obediah,” Anderson said once the tarp was unfurled, the body moved from the floor and up onto the cold metal table. Her limbs had gone stiff and had to be forced into a less awkward position. Her hair was tangled with branches and leaves and her legs and feet were caked with mud. “Lord knows he's gonna have something to say about the mess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He's out getting Mr. Devon right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That poor bastard shouldn't have to see this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Billy shrugged, unable to tear his eyes away from Lauren. What used to be Lauren. He swallowed hard, feeling his raw throat ache.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Her parents wouldn't answer the door and they weren't taking this seriously to begin with.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pretty girl engaged to a smart, good-looking man,” Anderson mused, cleaning his hands off in the sink. “They weren't hasty assuming they had run off to elope. I'd have said the same if like the rest of the town, we knew Jake Devon never takes a day off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don't you think they would have talked to one another?” Billy asked, not one to understand the trivial nuances of how the parents of young women looked down on the suitors, especially when they put work before anything else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anderson gave him a look that read just that, and Billy remembered all the accusing he had endured interviewing Mister and Mrs Fawst. He nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door to the station whipped open above, a sharp breeze traveling all the way down the steps and rustling the tarp. Billy gagged. Obediah could be heard cursing above as he tries to force the door back shut. His footsteps were heavy, angry, and softer foot-falls traveled behind him.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And that's where I stopped. Apologies for an ending so premature.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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